W
eight Stigma Awareness
Week
happened
recently, and its call
for everyone, not just those in larger
bodies, to understand why weight
stigma is important moved me to
use this platform to portray the
issue. And what better example of
how weight stigma has hurt those
in larger bodies than its infiltration
into the COVID-19 risk factors. The
Centers for Disease Control and
Prevention has asserted that people
categorized as “obese” by body mass
index standards are at increased risk
of falling ill from COVID-19.
But a look beyond the coveted
CDC-label and into the research
shows that these are preliminary
findings at best and, on the whole,
based on weak evidence. When
organizations like the CDC and
media outlets boast that higher-
weight individuals are specifically
in danger of contracting COVID-19,
they only point to three preliminary
reports released since April that cite
high BMI as a risk factor.
The first report overstates the
percentage of “obese” patients
by failing to also state that the
percentage of individuals in this
category in the United States is
comparable, and could thus be a
proportionate representation. The
second report found that those with
a BMI above 35 were more likely to
be put on a ventilator, and the third
report was a preliminary finding
that those with a BMI over 30 have
a higher risk of hospitalization and
intensive-care admission if they’re
less than 60 years old. Weight didn’t
appear important for those above 60.
Yet all of these are flawed in
that they don’t control for social
determinants of health, such as race,
socioeconomic status and quality of
care. These determinants are born
out of structural racism and weight
stigma is their sibling. The social
determinants of health are a branch
of the many systems of oppressions
with us today, all of which are
rooted in slavery, discrimination
and
racism.
The
system
of
oppression that is most at play in
this particular case pertaining to
COVID-19 is the health care system
that
disproportionately
neglects
the Black community and people
of color, not necessarily because
those working in it are explicitly
racist, but because they exist under
structurally racist systems.
For a better understanding of
these
determinants,
it’s
worth
examining the redlining policies
that concentrated Black people into
communities with limited access to
quality health care, not to mention
foods with highly nutritious profiles.
Policies like these paved the way for
health disparities, and by virtue of
doing this covertly, they’ve also left
room to allocate individual blame.
Thus, “poor lifestyle choices”
cannot be blamed for health
disparities, like those in COVID-19
where Black individuals have had
the highest rates of complications
and death from the virus. Evoking
an individual-focused argument
does great harm by dismissing
and excusing the racist structure
that has fostered it. Weight stigma
feeds on this dismissal and excusal,
and stigma towards larger-bodied
individuals becomes an accepted
social norm. Doctors’ failure to
provide adequate care and instead
assert that an individual’s weight
is the root of their problem, and
proceed to prescribe weight loss,
is a great example of this stigma
in a medical setting. In everyday
society, stigma takes many forms,
from outright telling someone to lose
weight because you think you care
about them to sneering at a larger-
bodied individual at the gym.
Nonetheless, a new study of more
than ten thousand individuals with
the virus found that high BMI was
not a risk factor for hospitalization,
ventilation or mortality. I learned of
this study through a great podcast,
Food Psych, that discussed weight
stigma and its disproportionate
effect on the Black community and
people of color, where the social
determinants of health I mentioned
earlier are the main predictors of
future health outcomes. Contrary
to what some are led to believe
by
sources
highlighting
the
disproportionate rates of illness
and death by the virus in the Black
community, the virus does not
discriminate.
The
health
care
system, on the other hand, most
definitely does, and that’s why we
have such stark disparities in the
demographics of those who contract
the virus. It has nothing to do with
race, because the color of your
skin does not make you inherently
more susceptible to the virus, yet
it has everything to do with race,
in
that
minority
communities
have been severely limited in their
access to quality care. And because
the prevalence of higher BMIs
in minority communities is well-
established, it’s easy for our society
— medical professionals included —
to resort to weight stigma and place
blame for a systematic problem on
individuals.
Patrilie Hernandez, an Early
Childhood Nutrition & Health
Specialist and the founder of
Embody Lib, was the guest on Food
Psych that beautifully articulated
how individual responsibility is
skewed. “I’m not trying to say
that our individual choices do not
matter,” she started. “They do. And
when it comes to lifestyle, sure they
matter, but they only really start to
matter when it comes to our health,
when we’re free from the restraints
of all these systems that create the
health disparities.” I couldn’t have
said it better myself.
At this point in time, we can’t say
definitely that a higher body weight
is the reason an individual becomes
infected or further falls very ill with
the virus when there are so many
other factors in place. If my POLSCI
300 class has taught me anything, it’s
that substantive conclusions cannot
be made when other confounding
variables aren’t accounted for. And
here, the confounding variables that
are the various social determinants
of health are complex and not
accounted for in these studies.
Moreover, the studies we do have on
weight stigma right now continue to
suggest that the stigma itself does
the most harm.
Still, let’s say we were to believe
that a higher body weight in itself
put someone at a heightened risk
for COVID-19. What can be done
as a result? We know for a fact that
diets don’t work, with most of the
lost weight being regained within
five years and sometimes even more
weight gain than what was originally
lost. So you can’t tell people to just
lose weight because that implies
intentionally restricting food, and
that is a diet. So, what’s the next step?
Unless the goal is weight cycling,
which is known to be harmful, a
restrictive diet is not the answer.
In the end, the answer is still
then to adopt healthy behaviors,
regardless of current weight and
without weight loss goals. But that’s
on an individual level. You can’t
run before you learn how to walk.
The
overarching,
multifaceted
problem is still weight stigma, the
harm it brings to people in larger
bodies by limiting their access to
high-quality health care — and its
parent, systematic racism born out
of centuries of racism.
I’m not stating definitively that a
higher weight doesn’t increase your
risk of contracting and falling ill to
COVID-19. It very well could. But the
outright claims that it does — that an
“obese” BMI increases your risk —
is unsubstantiated right now. And
again, if it does, that puts individuals
in larger bodies between a rock and a
hard place because it is also true that
intentional weight loss efforts are a
fruitless endeavor most of the time.
In fact, weight cycling or weight gain
past the individual’s initial starting
weight are likely going to be the long-
term results. Finally, all this focus on
weight as a risk factor, and weight
loss to correct for it, allows weight
stigma to continue to fly under the
radar, and the social determinants
of health continue to be reproduced
the longer we continue to neglect its
racist roots.
9 — Wednesday, November 4, 2020
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Free Kylie Moore-Gilbert
KAREEM RIFAI | COLUMN
Facing the social media dilemma
LIZZY PEPPERCORN | COLUMN
Weight loss won’t protect you from COVID
NYLA BOORAS | COLUMN
T
hought to be the only
non-Iranian
dual-
national
currently
imprisoned
by
the
Iranian
government, Kylie Moore-Gilbert
has been Iranian custody since
2019. Moore-Gilbert, a British-
Australian citizen, was a lecturer
in Islamic studies at Melbourne
University, where she specialized
in politics, authoritarianism and
popular movements in the Arab
Gulf region. She was detained
while traveling in Iran under
accusations of espionage without
any public disclosure of evidence
for her alleged crimes. The
Australian government described
her detention as baseless and
politically-motivated,
which
goes along with human rights
advocates
accusing
Iran
of
routinely
arresting
innocent
foreign nationals and holding
them
hostage
for
political
purposes.
Multiple
reports
of
mistreatment
and
abuse
surfaced during the first two
years of Moore-Gilbert’s 10-year
sentence at Iran’s Evin Prison.
Moore-Gilbert was beaten by
prison guards after forming
a prison choir as an act of
resistance
to
her
detention.
Sources also stated that Moore-
Gilbert received treatment for
injuries on her arms, along
with severe bruising across her
entire body. The husband of
recently-freed Iranian detainee
Nazanin
Zaghari-Ratcliffe
alleged that Moore-Gilbert was
held in solitary confinement “at
a level of abuse that’s beyond
egregious.”
While held in Evin, Moore-
Gilbert
was
offered
her
release on the condition that
she would work as a spy for the
terrorist Iranian Revolutionary
Guard Corps. Letters reveal that
Moore-Gilbert furiously denied
the offer, writing, “I am not a
spy. I have never been a spy and
I have no interest to work for
a spying organization in any
country. When I leave Iran, I
want to be a free woman and live
a free life, not under the shadow
of extortion and threats.”
In July 2020, Moore-Gilbert’s
situation became even more
dire as she was transferred
to
Iran’s
notorious
Qarchak
Prison for women, which the
U.S. State Department describes
as an institution responsible
for extrajudicial killings and
torture. Human rights groups
have
detailed
the
prison’s
deplorable conditions including
overflows
of
raw
sewage,
inedible food and undrinkable
water.
Additionally,
as
Iran
maintains its status as one of
the
most
COVID-19-stricken
nations in the world, sources
have
claimed
that
Qarchak
regularly has disease outbreaks.
Moore-Gilbert reportedly was at
one point extremely physically
ill, with a fellow prisoner saying,
“after one meal she became
sick. Kylie was terrified of the
officers… she left me in tears
and anxious. In a publicized
recording, an exasperated Kylie
can be heard saying, “I can’t
eat anything. I feel so very
hopeless… I am so depressed.”
News of political hostage-
taking has become a familiar
occurrence in the West in recent
years, especially in America.
Most recently, Americans were
subject to the dramatic and
tragic story of Otto Warmbier.
In January of 2016, Warmbier
was
detained
by
North
Korean officials for allegedly
stealing a poster in his hotel in
Pyongyang, North Korea and
was subsequently sentenced to
15 years of physical labor. Images
and videos of distraught and
pale Warmbier, accompanied by
public outcry, brought the Trump
administration’s
attention
to
the
case,
eventually
ending
with
Warmbier’s
release
on
humanitarian grounds.
Horrifically, Warmbier was
released in a comatose state and
subsequently
died.
Officials
claimed that he had suffered
from a case of botulism despite
extensive
evidence
that
he
was a subject of beatings or
torture. Warmbier’s father, Fred
Warmbier, said in a declaration
to a U.S. federal court, “it is
unbelievable to me that North
Korea would send Otto home as a
vegetable, with scars on his body
and crooked teeth.”
As with Warmbier’s case,
Moore-Gilbert’s
detention
is
completely
baseless.
Authoritarian regimes like those
of North Korea and Iran continue
to use the lives of innocent free-
world citizens as pawns for
political gain, often torturing
their
victims
psychologically
and
physically,
and
in
Warmbier’s case, signing their
death sentence. As Australia’s
relationship with Iran becomes
more strained, especially due to
Australia’s troop commitment
to the U.S. coalition in Iraq, the
Australian government’s quiet
diplomatic approach to securing
Moore-Gilbert’s freedom has
resoundingly failed.
Moore-Gilbert’s
case
is
of particular concern as her
imprisonment
represents
an
increasingly
hostile
environment
for
researchers
and academics with focuses on
authoritarianism.
The
world
must hear her plea for help, “I
am entirely alone in Iran. I have
no friends or family here and in
addition to all the pain I have
endured here, I feel like I am
abandoned and forgotten.”
Kareem Rifai can be reached at
krifai@umich.edu.
W
hile I tried to ignore
the reality for as
long as possible, I
recently forced myself to face
my addiction: social media. For
many years I have been a user of
Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat,
VSCO and now TikTok. It never
felt as though I used these
applications more than any of my
peers. I would try to not be on
my phone when around friends.
The only exceptions were when
I wanted to upload a Snapchat
selfie or some event occurred
that required me to instantly look
at my phone so my Instagram or
Snapchat stories would be in
better view.
My life didn’t seem to revolve
around
social
media
posts,
except for when casually hanging
out with friends would turn into
hour-long photo-taking sessions
for Instagram. These would be
followed by an hour-long session
of staring at our phones editing,
posting and checking to see if
people had commented on the
new shirts we were so excited
about wearing, or if our bodies fit
a certain beauty standard or if we
looked like we were “thriving.”
From where I stood, I couldn’t
pinpoint a way social media was
making my life worse. My grades
were good. I had plenty of friends
and healthy relationships. It
seemed that the anxieties over
feeling left out, body image
issues, validation from peers and
whether or not his “Snap score”
increased while he still hadn’t
responded for hours were normal
stresses that all my friends
experienced.
Whenever I pondered if my
social media use was bad for
my mental health, I concluded
that not having it would be
worse because I might lose
my
connections
with
long-
distance friendships, relate less
to friends and family that were
experiencing the same things
online and lose my platform
where I was able to prove that
I was “living my best life” to
almost 2,000 people, most of
which I would probably never see
or speak to.
Then
I
went
public.
On
Instagram, there is a feature
where
you
can
make
your
public
account
a
“business
account” and get access to how
many people are viewing your
account, saving your pictures,
direct-messaging your pictures
and more. While I have usually
considered myself a generally
down-to-earth person, I found
myself
impulsively
checking
these statistics whenever I would
post. The rabbit hole would only
deepen as I would find myself
checking who had liked certain
things, viewed different stories or
more importantly, who hadn’t.
Chamath Palihapitiya, former
vice president of growth at
Facebook, says in his interview
in the Netflix documentary “The
Social
Dilemma”
that
social
media apps are designed to
“psychologically figure out how to
manipulate you as fast as possible,
and then give you back that
dopamine hit,” regardless of if we
realize we are falling into the trap
or not. The validation of a like,
comment, tag or direct message
may entice you to constantly
check the app in search of those
dopamine hits.
Around two weeks ago, I
realized that I was no longer
living for myself. I felt pressure
to exercise and look fit so that
people wouldn’t comment on my
weight. I wanted to have my social
media feeds be full of pictures
with friends and smiles to ensure
my followers that my social life
is thriving. It felt good when 50
people would take the time to
comment on my pictures about
how amazing I was. I thought
that Instagram was helping
me build my self-confidence by
allowing me to show off my life
and feel proud.
While posts do achieve this
self-confidence
boost
to
an
extent, I started to question
why receiving this validation
in person from the people I see
and am currently friends with
isn’t enough. How is a like from
my elementary school crush or
my middle school ex-best friend
impacting me? All that should
matter is how I feel about myself.
Why am I letting the actions and
opinions of anyone but myself
impact my emotions and self-
esteem?
In an attempt to decide what
I wanted to do going forward
with my social media accounts,
I deleted the Instagram app for
a week. The number of times
I went onto my phone and
subconsciously looked for the
app shocked me. I didn’t think
I checked the app that many
times a day. While it felt freeing
to be Instagram-free for a week,
I didn’t feel truly free knowing
that my account was still out
there for strangers to view and
judge.
Tristan Harris, the former
design ethicist at Google and
co-founder for the Centre for
Humane Technologies, explains
in his “The Social Dilemma”
interview, “Social media starts
to dig deeper and deeper down
into the brain stem and take over
kids’ sense of self-worth and
identity.” While I told myself I
was using Instagram to express
myself and feel confident, it
began to feel like my account
was an entirely separate identity
I had to maintain.
Amidst
the
COVID-19
pandemic, social circles have
shrunk. Many individuals are
only spending time with their
closest friends and not meeting
many
new
people.
People
are now solely making their
judgments and impressions off
of social media and pictures. I
realized people aren’t meeting
me and getting to know me right
now — they are only judging
from a feed of pictures and
cheesy captions on a small phone
screen. The ability of others to
form judgements of me from
my posts and not their actual
interactions with me bothered
me.
So, I deleted my account
entirely and started over. My
new account has around 100
followers,
made
entirely
of
people I respect, know and
can call friends. While I still
find myself checking the app
throughout the day, there is no
longer a rabbit hole to fall into.
While challenging, I cut out
any followers that may impact
my emotions or mental health.
It is tempting to give in to the
validation and attention search
that social media is programmed
to make you crave.
What is scary about the social
media dilemma is that we do
not usually realize how deeply it
impacts us. Social media is not
considered a serious addiction
that needs to be addressed, since
everyone is suffering from the
same addiction. However, the
harm it causes to mental health,
relationships and self-identity
are real and substantial. I urge
all users of social media to take
a break, reflect on how your
life is controlled or impacted by
social media and take steps to
acknowledge the social media
dilemma and break free from its
grip on society.
Lizzy Peppercorn can be reached at
epepperc@umich.edu.
MADELYN VERVAECKE | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT MIVERVAE@UMICH.EDU
CHRISTINA KIM | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT CKIMC@UMICH.EDU
Nyla Booras can be reached at
nbooras@umich.edu.